Hostage
by privateradios
Summary: Neither dead nor alive, the hostage is suspended by an incalculable outcome. It is not his destiny that waits for him, nor his own death, but anonymous chance, which can only seem to him something absolutely arbitrary. Flack Fic
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Hostage

**Author:** Jen – privateradios (Livejournal and Fanfiction), Tuesdaymorning (talkCSI)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

**Pairing:** None as right now.

**Rating:** FRT

**Summary:** Neither dead nor alive, the hostage is suspended by an incalculable outcome. It is not his destiny that waits for him, nor his own death, but anonymous chance, which can only seem to him something absolutely arbitrary. He is in a state of radical emergency, of virtual extermination.

**A/N:** Came to me while driving. I blame my radio. And this will be one of those multi-chapter stories because I have a lot for this.

It's dark, cold and his chest hurt. His lips are dry, his throat itchy and he isn't sure if he's barely alive. His head aches, dry blood seeps are the corners of his lips and he wonders where the hell he is because he can't remember anything that happened in the last twenty-four hours.

All he knows is that he's here, in this area and knows nothing more than that. In the distant he hears the constant sound of water dripping and it echoes against the stone cold walls, sending him into insanity.

He coughs and bends over, his arms tied behind his back (he guesses its duct tape because it's thick and it itches like crazy), as he closes his eyes, breathing hard. He's not sure what is going on and he wants to yell, wants to panic and scream and demand who's to blame for this but before he can get answers, he needs to put together questions and reasonable thinking.

He decides to retrace his movements the following day, trying to recall the events and he starts with the fact of waking up in his apartment, sunlight streaking through his blinds, reminding him that another day awaits. He gets dressed, orders a coffee and makes his way towards work, weaving in and out of the many crowds that New York City offers.

Taking a sip of the coffee, his eyes meet another, a pair that belongs to a close friend and co-worker, Danny Messer.

"Hey Don." Danny greets as he makes his way over to Flack, hands in pockets as the chilled morning air bites at their flesh. His eyes land on the coffee and a smirk plays at his lips as they walk. "Didn't want to get me one huh?"

Flack laughs as he hands his coffee over to the other man and falls in step besides him, glad that this morning actually seemed to be going better than planned. "Go ahead, have a sip. I'm not sick yet."

Danny takes the coffee from his hands. "Thanks." And tilts his head back to take a long sip of Flack's coffee before handing it back over to him. All right, maybe Flack's coffee isn't the kind that Danny drinks but Flack doesn't mind giving him a sip. Once Danny licks the taste of Flack's coffee off his lips, he casts him a curious look before smiling. "Ready for another day?"

Flack glances over at Danny and his smile matches the other man's. "When have I never?"

And from there, he and Danny separate their ways before Flack's in his own area and at his own desk working on his own things again and he can't help but wonder if maybe he'll be pulled on an interesting case which requires him to get out as possible because the last place he wants to be is here in this office right now.

Then he receives a call and he tries to remember, tries to remember what name flashed across his caller ID because right when he saw that name, he darted from his desk and moved outside.

The water dropping in the distance brings him back to the state that he's in right now and he can feel hot tears forming behind his eyes, threatening to show his weakness. He needs to know how he got here and he needs to know why he's here because he wants out.

Something happened yesterday and for the life of him, Detective Don Flack Jr. can not put the pieces together. His head aches, his body's sore, the blood on the side of his face itches and Flack curls up onto the cold floor as he closes his eyes and tries to breathe in even steady breaths, anything to keep himself alive. And as he tries, he can't help but wonder what is going on with everyone else and if they maybe have the answers he's looking for because as of right this second, he is a hostage in a dangerous position.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Hostage Part Two

**Author:** Jen – privateradios (fanfiction and Livejournal) – tuesdaymorning (talkCSI)

**Disclaimer:** Only thing that is mine is Flack's sister that is mentioned later in this chapter.

**Pairing:** None yet.

**Rating:** FRT

**A/N:** Just to let you all know, chapters will become more violent and gruesome as time progresses. And I really didn't look back and review because I was pressed for time so maybe later, after a couple of chapters, I'll edit this.

He looks down at his hands when daylight emerges, bringing light into the faintly lit room. He sees the deep cuts running across his flesh and he closes his eyes because it's too painful to look. Flack guesses that he must have been up one hell of a fight because those defense wounds on his hands will leave haunting scars for the rest of his life.

He still has the same clothes on that he did before he was taken and he sighs in relief because that means that they didn't touch him. That means that they didn't take anything away from him and if his hands were still taped behind his back, he would reach for his cell phone and call for help.

The door behind him creaks open and Flack's breath catches in his throat. This will be the first time that he's had any sort of contact or communication since his kidnapping and as he's about to turn around to face his attacker, pain rips through his shoulder and he cries out, falling face first onto the cold and hard cement floor.

"I didn't say turn around." The voice behind him growls. "You wanna live? You gotta listen."

Flack swallows hard as the pain in his shoulder recedes. This was not a good situation to be in. Not at all.

And there's another whack to his shoulder and Flack cries out yet again, his shoulder protesting in pain as he falls to his side, his aching shoulder still numb in pain. From this angle, Flack's able to see the lower half of the attacker's body and an aluminum bat hanging from the assailant's hand.

"You answer me." The voice threatened and Flack could feel the hot tears escaping from his closed eyes and he can't help but nod, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper of a yes.

The man walks around Flack, the bat dragging across the floor, taunting and teasing and Flack's not sure what he did so wrong to deserve this. He's not even sure how he even got here let alone who this man was. Flack swallows hard and cautiously looks up. "How many are there?"

The man's pacing stops and the bat gently taps on the cement floor. "How many what?"

Flack swallows hard again. "Of you."

"Five." He answers, an atrocious laugh following as the man brings up the bat and slowly runs it down Flack's back. "And we're all ready to have some fun with you Donny."

That name. That nickname. That name that he had been called when he was younger by his friends and family and just the sound of that name sends shivers down Flack's spine. That name was never to reemerge again because at the age of eighteen, Flack decided that Donny was to be kept with the past and that Don would be the new him.

Donny was seventeen. Don is twenty-seven.

"How, how did you know about my nickname?" Flack asks, his words coming out in shaky breaths.

The bat runs up and down his back, taunting and every time the aluminum touches his clothes, it feels like acid burning through his flesh. "We know everything about you Donny. Everything. We know about your sister, your mother, your father and all those little secrets you didn't want anyone to know. All of them." And the bat stops at the middle of his back and before Flack can react to the statements, the man is pressing the bat deep into his flesh and Flack cries out in pain.

They wanted something and Flack wasn't sure he could even give it to them.

--

"His apartment door is unlocked." Stella says, fingers wrapped around the door handle as she casts Mac a nervous glance. Door unlocked never meant anything good.

"Open it." Danny says a little too anxiously as he bounces on the heels of his feet. He just wants to find Flack and make sure that the other man is all right.

Ever since Flack had not returned to work the next day, hadn't answered his cell phone or made any contact with anyone, Mac had discussed his plans with Stella earlier in the day that making a visit to Flack's apartment was probably a good idea and she agreed. It would have been just the two of them but Danny had hunted them down only moments after their conversation ended and demanded that he too went along.

And so there the three of them stood outside of Flack's apartment door ready to head inside.

Mac looks at Stella and nods at her, eyes moving towards Flack's door as his hands move to the gun positioned in his holster. Just incase, you never know when he'd need to pull it out.

She notices the nod and in an instant, she turns the door knob and slowly pushes open the door. And right when the door fully opens, a horrible yet familiar smell fills their nostrils and Stella quickly blocks her nose with the back of her wrist from the pungent smell of decaying flesh.

"We've got a dead body!" Stella cries as she hastily moves inside the apartment, not caring at all about the precautions of securing a scene. There's a dead body in Flack's apartment and as she rushes down the hall, she prays and prays that it's not Flack's.

_It can't be Flack's. It can not be Flack's._ She repeatedly tells herself as she stumbles into the kitchen and there on the floor lays a woman's body covered in bloody sheets. Her blonde hair falls besides her face and her arms are spread above her head in a symbolic position indicating that they had been moved after death. There are scars on her face, arms and legs and Stella feels her stomach do flips.

Danny moves behind Stella, Mac on his heels, and Danny's flashlight lowers as he sighs, his face frowning. "Her eyes are still open."

Stella feels herself shaking as she swallows hard; her stomach still doing those damn flips. "Danny, why is there a dead woman in Flack's apartment?"

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

AN: I've been on the biggest writers block _ever_ and to actually get this all out and done took me forever. Well, weeks? Yeah, that counts as forever. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Again, I wanted to get this out quick so I really haven't had time to re-read and check for mistakes. Apologies! If you want to wait and give me a week or so, I'll fix any that stand out. Otherwise, enjoy.

The Jane Doe that Danny, Stella and Mac had discovered in Flack's apartment was that of a Miss Gabrielle Marks who had a small meeting with Flack earlier that day he disappeared. Stella had tracked down Gabrielle's day events (thanks to Gabrielle's cell phone which kindly offered them with a calendar) so Stella was able to find the small restaurant named "Marty's" where the two had met up.

But before Stella or Mac are able to head out towards the restaurant, they have an unique visit of their own.

"I need to find a Mac Taylor!" A woman's voice calls out as she moves about in the lobby; dark black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail as her deep blues eyes search the area with tiredness and sorrow.

Mac, who had been walking with Stella, overhears his name and he stops, his attention moving to that of the woman who was frantically looking for him.

He approaches her with caution, Stella follows slowly, and he gently touches her shoulder to let her know of his presence. "Miss? I'm Detective Mac Taylor."

She stops for a moment and turns to look at him, her eyes locking with him and she feels her lower lip tremble as she tries to stand tall in front of him, show that she's not weak at all but Mac notices that her eyes are telling a different story.

She takes in a deep breath, and speaks. "I need to know where my brother is."  
There's no doubt in fact of whom her brother is, Mac notices the resemblance too much, and he sighs, gently pulling her away from the people that have stopped to watch the show.

"I need to know about Donny!" She says in shaky, desperate breath as Mac lowers his pitch a little, hoping she'd do the same.

"We're trying to find him. We've got some new evidence that just came in and Detective Stella Bonasera," he motions at her with his hand "and I were just about to head out to talk to a witness possibly."

"Detective, listen to me," she begins, her body still shaking, "I need to know where Don is. I need to know that he's gonna be okay and that nothin' will go wrong. I can't stay at home anymore and just look at my brother's picture flashing across the screen." Her hands wrap around Mac's wrist, in either at attempt to use physical force to let him know how she's feeling or just for something to hold onto while her whole world comes falling down around her. "Please Detective, just tell me where he is and that everything is going to be okay."

He can see Stella out of the corner of his eye, watches as she bites down hard on her lower lip and turn away and Mac can't help but feel the exact feeling that his partner is feeling.

He's not sure where he is. He's not sure if Flack's all right and he looks down back at Flack's sister and the guilt runs through his body faster than he had ever expected. "Miss-"

"-Johanna"

Mac smiles faintly and nods. "Johanna, the only thing I can tell you at this moment is that we're doing everything we can to find him."

Her eyes water up slightly and she closes them to make sure that those tears don't' fall. "So, you're saying…that he could be dead?"

He just sighs because Mac's really not sure how to answer

--

Danny's head hits the cool metal as he breathes deeply, trying to regain control of his emotions. Ever since Flack's kidnapping, Danny had found himself unable to function at all without getting emotional. He had already dropped an empty tube glass, snapped at one of the new lab techs and even walked into the wrong gender bathroom. He was a total mess and he wasn't the only one who was seeing it.

"You okay?"

Danny glances over his shoulder to see Stella leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed across her chest.

He peels his forehead away from the locker and gives a small nod, turning to face her. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just thinkin'."

Her brows furrow and she takes small steps towards him. "About Flack?"

Why is Stella so smart?

Danny hesitates with his answer and Stella notices it. "…Yeah. I mean, fuck Stel. We're here," he gestured to the locker room with a move of his hand, "and Flack's out there without any help."

She sighs and moves closer, her voice lowering. "Danny, we're trying all that we can. We've only got a limited amount of evidence-"

"-Which isn't leadin' us to Don."

Silence greets them and Stella chews at her lower lip, her eyes searching for Danny's as he runs his fingers against his lock. She's not quite sure how to react to that because Danny's right. Their evidence was leading them nowhere to Flack. Just people he's come in contact with and even though that would be good for any case, this was different. They were dealing with one of their own that had fallen right under their noses.

"I hope he's okay." Danny almost whispers as his fingers stop tracing the lock and instead roll up into tight fists. Flack's always been there for him so why couldn't he be the one that helps him? Why did things like this always happen to Danny?

--

"Do you remember when you were younger Donny?" The voice ask as three men crowd around Flack, eyes never leaving his frail body. "Do you remember how many nights you'd stay up waiting for your Pop to come home? Do you remember that?"

Flack stays silent and it's a mistake. One of the men's fingers wrap around Flack's neck and he whimpers slightly, breathing slowly beginning to become a problem.

"Do you remember?" He asks again and this time, Flack mouths a yes and the fingers are released.

Flack rubs his neck (the duct tape had been removed with their arrival) and decides to take a quick sweep of the room with his eyes, hopefully to notice anything that can help him figure out where he is.

"Your father worked long hours and there were times you'd fall asleep on the stairs waiting for him to come home. Then, in the morning, you'd be back in your bed, safe and sound. Did you ever notice any specific cases that your father worked? Any cases that didn't send him home for days? Remember waking up on those steps because your father didn't come home? You remember that?"

Flack nods slowly, wondering exactly how they knew all of this.

"How about that case? You know what case I'm talking about Donny?"

There were a few cases Flack remembered. There was one about a serial killer who had raped and killed many women, sending Donald Flack Sr. out and about for days, only coming home once in a while to shower and eat. Then there was another when Flack was thirteen when a young teenage boy had gone missing, parents dead in the bedroom. It seemed to be an emotional case for his father because every time his father would come home, he'd tell him and his sister Johanna how much he loved them and that he'd never hurt them ever.

But one case stood out. When Flack was seventeen, he was walking home with his friends and a man and Flack's father were outside, the other man screaming into his father's face. His buddies were confused and Flack told them that they needed to head home. He knew about how suspects could get into Detective faces about cases and Don had a feeling that this was one of them.

He decided to go around the house, avoid the front where the two were having the heated argument, but as he quickly snuck by, he couldn't help but hear part of the conversation.

"…You're wrong!"

"No, evidence clearly shows that he's the killer. No other way."

"Detective Flack, please listen to me. You're wrong! There's no way that this guy could be the killer! He's not like that."

"Sir, the evidence is pointin' it's fuckin' finger at Stevens. I'm sorry if you disagree but face it."

Flack had even made sure not to mention anything to his father about it. His father wasn't one to discuss anything like that.

Flack can feel hands wrapping around his arms and before he can process what's happening, he's pulled to his feet and is face to face with one of the men in front of him. Dark eyes stare into his and an accomplished, almost evil smile is plastered on the man's face. "You're Pop's a stupid man. Because of him, my family is messed up and torn apart. Because of him I can't live the same anymore. Do you want to know how many people have spit at my feet? How many had made harassed and picked fights with me? Because of your father, I want revenge."

Flack swallows hard as the man steps closer. Revenge could mean anything.

"I want your father to feel the pain that my family did. He put my father in jail for a murder that he didn't commit. My father died in there Donny Jr. My father was a good man and he didn't deserve this. So, I'm giving your father a little, well, how should I put it? A thank you gift?"

And Flack watches as the man pulls a long bladed knife out from his pocket and it reflects off the poorly lit room, blinding Flack for a moment.

"I'm gonna get your blood and give it to him."

TBC.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**privateradios**

_A/N: I should probably proof read these, huh? Anyway, I finally got this one up and I'm pretty sure I'm pleased with it all. Don't worry, this story isn't anywhere close to finish yet._

The scar is deep and he knows that it will take weeks before the flesh can heal itself. The knife was sharp and painful, leaving traces of ache in its path. Flack traces his fingers gently across the wound and he winces slightly, taking in a quick sharp of breath while doing so. He still cannot get over the fact that strangers had just taken blood from him to get back at his father. He hurts Flack emotionally and physically and he's not sure how long he can keep up with this.

His mouth is dry and his throat aches with pain. He glances up from his injured arm to watch the man who is currently keeping guard of him at the doorframe. A gun rests in the man's bulky hands and Flack has been told (many times in fact) that if he were to go against their orders, a bullet right to the head would be their only response.

So Flack leans against the wall and sighs. They had taken everything of his away except for the clothes that he was wearing from days ago. Days ago seems like forever and Flack is growing more and more concerned whether or not his team can find him, let alone know that he's missing. For a brief moment, he wonders about his sister, father and his mother. He wonders if they know anything about him and it tugs at his heartstrings. He can see his sister crying and demanding to know where he is while his father keeps a blank face and tries to go on with his life knowing that his son is fine wherever he is.

Except, Flack realizes that he has a hard time thinking about his mother's reactions. He knows that she loves him, no doubt about it, but they're not very close. When he was younger, Flack did heavily rely on his mother due to the fact that his father was out working long nights but the two of them never really bonded. Not the way Johanna and his mom do. No, instead it's him and his father. And what do you know, he's the exact same looking on the outside of his father but in the inside, Don Jr. is different.

There was a point in his life when Don Jr. did not want to follow his father at all. He didn't want to work long nights, he didn't want to deal with the fact that people murdered for pathetic reasons and he wanted to have a life where he could be there for his family twenty-four seven. His father had also seemed to develop a personality of that of a man that breathed in his work. He'd come home for dinner sometimes and small talk at the table would be shared.

Flack remembers one day when Johanna had come home with a boy she invited over to dinner. The mood was quite awkward that night and the only sound that Flack can remember was that of an old grandfather clock which clicked away with each second that barely passed by.

Johanna's boy – Flack found out later that his name was Ricky Lippy and that he had some connections to some of the gangs that Flack's father dealt with on a daily basis – was obnoxiously rude and Flack cringed every time something even bothered to escape from the kid's big lips. He had curly brown hair and dark eyes that Johanna seemed to fall for all the time. He had an accent and he used it to his advantage. Flack also noticed that tattoo's covered this kid's skin like it were an article of clothing.

Disgusted, Don didn't speak at all.

But Flack Sr. did. "Your name again?"  
Johanna's grip tightened on the kid's arm. "His name is Ricky, Daddy."

Flack Sr. gave Johanna a stern look. "Johanna, I wasn't speakin' to you."

She slumped slightly in her seat, embarrassed.

"Your name."

The teenager smiled a pair of poorly brushed teeth and Don cringed again. Why did Johanna even _fall_ for this guy was beyond him. "I'm Ricky. Ricky Lippy."

Flack Sr.'s brow rose. Yes, oh yes, the Lippy name was very familiar to him. He had a couple of Lippy's he dealt with himself during his police years and they were one kind of a family that had a rap sheet longer than any rap sheet he's seen before. "Lippy? Father's name is Harold, correct?"

Johanna rolled her eyes in her seat. "Daddy, can we not interrogate my boyfriend right now? Can't we just eat like a normal family?"

"My normal family is the four of us _without _Lippy here." He told his daughter firmly before turning his attention back to Ricky. "Your father owns a hefty business doesn't he Ricky? Makin' sure that things goin' smoothly correct?"

Ricky blinked a couple times before nodding in affirmation.

Flack Sr. smiled. "So, that means that he has well, how do I put it? Interesting people comin' in time to time, right?"

"I'm not like him!" Ricky suddenly yelled as he snatched his arm away from Johanna and placed his hands firmly on the table. "I ain't like my father! I don't do that stuff."

"Don't yell in my house."  
Ricky's eyes flashed in anger as he quickly stood up from his seat, his chair falling behind him as doing so. He breathed heavily as he looked over at Johanna and sighed. "Listen Jo, I can't do this. I can't handle being questioned like this by your father. Maybe if he just looks past a couple of things he won't be the man he is today." And before any of the Flack's could respond, Ricky turned abruptly and left, leaving the family in awkard suspense. Don slowly gazed up at his father and watched as the man stood up from his seat and walked into kitchen, leaving no trace of his emotions behind.

Xxxx

Danny and Stella arrive at the restaurant where Flack and Gabrielle had lunch earlier the day that Flack had been kidnapped. The place is small but the excellent food makes up for it and if Danny wasn't working, he would have ordered himself a sub in a minute.

The manager is a man who gave the two hell. He doesn't speak much and when he does, it's a mixture of small words and cursing which well, doesn't help Stella or Danny much.

They finally receive the tape that they need (the manager had complained earlier that ever since there was a robbery across the street, he set up security cameras everywhere) and back to the lab they go.

Xxxx

"Have anything?" Mac asks as he joins Stella and Danny in the A/V Lab with a cup of coffee in hand.

Danny quickly turns around in his seat, smiling. "We got a vehicle. And it's the one that we're sure Don was takin' in."

Mac's brow rose and Stella takes that moment to answer. "We're watching the video and Flack walks out with Gabriella. They say their good byes and he goes to left while she goes to the right." She then turns to the screens and presses PLAY. The three watch as the black van parked to the right slowly begins to drive towards where Flack is heading before both objects disappear from the camera. Seconds later, the van speeds back the opposite way at a fast pace. Stella presses PAUSE and turns to look at Mac. "It's all we've got, Mac."

He looks at the faces on both of his co-workers faces and Flack's sisters' voice ringing in his ears and he sighs, rubbing his face with his free hand. It really was all they had and there was nothing wrong following their gut, right? "Got a license plate number?" Mac finally asks and Danny and Stella share a quick smile before nodding.

Stella hands him the case file. "Got a license number."

"And address."

TBC.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hostage Part 5**

_Okay, so, I know you're all upset about the lack of updates but there is a good explanation for that! Now, this chapter is just getting the basics down and moving just slightly but the chapters to come will really be what the story is worth waiting for. And no, they will not take as long. Just in order to get my feeling back for the writing takes a while. So, lastly enough, enjoy! And please do not hate me._

"Here's the vehicle." The auto mechanic says as he directs Stella and Mac towards the back of the lot where the black van currently rested. "Brought in 'bout a couple hours ago."

Mac stood besides the auto mechanic as Stella began to walk around the vehicle, gloves already on her hands. He turned watched Stella for a moment before turning to look at the gentleman besides him. "Do you know why it was brought in?"

"Said that brakes were locking up. Needed it fixed or somethin'. Personally? Don't think anythin's wrong with it."

Mac nods at the mechanics answer as Stella points her flashlight into the tinted windows of the SUV, her eyes searching for anything that can help her find some connection to the kidnapping of Flack.

And as she leans closer, gloved hands positioning themselves on the window, Stella squints her eyes and peers in. At first, there's no indication what so ever that this vehicle had been used in years but there's something that reflects off the light and it catches Stella's eyes. She leans back and turns her head towards where Mac and the mechanic, her brows furrowed. "Hey, do you think you can open this for me?"

The mechanic nods quickly and pulls a set of keys out from his pocket as he walks over to where she is standing. "Yeah, sure. No problem." He takes the key and slides it into the SUV's lock and turns the key, the familiar sound of a 'click' echoing off, and pulls it open, the smell of bleach quickly filling Stella's nostrils.

"Mac!" Stella quickly calls out as Mac moves over to her side. "There's bleach in here."

The mechanic gave them questioning looks as Mac stepped closer, snapping gloves onto his hands. "Mr.-"

"Call me Dave." The mechanic quickly replies as Mac steals a glance over his shoulder at him.

"-Okay, Dave, did you or any of your workers happen to have access to this vehicle?"

"No, only me. And I swear, I did not bleach it."

Stella turns to Mac, angry and desperation lingers on her face. "Mac, this is not good at all. We've basically hit another dead end."  
He knows they're at another dead end because he knew it right from the beginning. He figured that those that had captured Flack were probably close to that of experts and leaving behind a vehicle with open access would mean that evidence would soon enough be spotted.

Mac faces Stella and sighs, his head aching from the chaos and confusion of the case. "We know one thing." And at that moment Stella glances up at him. "Someone had lost a lot of blood in here."

Xxxx

"Man, ditchin' that shit was tough." Grady Akers complains as he leans back in his chair, legs stretched out on the table in front of him. "Had to make up the best fuckin' excuse."

Joe Pillatio looked up from his deck of cards to give the younger man a questioning look. "What did'cha say?"

Grady smiles proudly. "Brakes locked, somethin' up with the car heatin' up or somethin'. They bought it."  
The door to the left opens and a tall man enters, tossing a bloody towel on the table where Grady's currently rest. The two other men in the room look up at their boss, Johnny Keys, as he moves past them, the smell of alcohol lingering.

"So, how'd he take it?" Grady asks as Johnny rummages around in the cupboard, looking for anything along the lines to stop the bleeding of the bite marks on his hand.

When Johnny's hands land on the napkins, his answers. "Kid's quite a fighter." He removes the napkins and stands up, grabbing the tape on the counter before pulling a chair up to where the other two men sat. "Fuckin' kid bit me."

"What did'cha do to him?" Joe asks as he looks over his cards to watch as Johnny wraps the napkin around his hand before taping them together. "Kill him, finally?"

"No, Joe. 'Ain't killin' him yet. We need him to get what we want. I just took that bat of yours and whacked him with it, demanding that he tell me all about his father's work."

Grady sits up straighter in his seat. "What? Thought this was about his boy, not the father."  
"It was never about the boy. Always the father." Johnny responds as he tosses the tape back onto the counter. "Listen, new idea. I'm thinkin' that this Donnie Jr. here 'ain't gonna last much longer. He's lost a lot of blood. So, if he dies, we're just gonna keep pretendin' he's alive until we get what we want."

"I thought we were gonna kill him at the end."

"No," Johnny emphasizes as his lips curve into a dangerous and deadly smile, one that many had feared to ever see, "we're gonna let him die. I'm already goin' to jail and the sweetest revenge for me will be havin' Flack Sr. attendin' his son's funeral."

TBC.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

The pain is unbearable and he's not sure how longer he can take it. The metal cuffs around his wrist are heavy and cool, sending sharp and painful shivers up and down his body. His current location smells worst than decomposing hot bodies in the middle of summer and the light from the small window is barely giving him any hope what so ever of freedom.

He leans his head back against the stone cold wall and sighs, his eyes closing with exhaustion. The blood on his face is dry and itches, reminding him of the earlier beating with a baseball bat. All because he would simply not answer to what ever questions that were thrown his way. It sickens him –really, it does- and Flack wonders what sort of high power allowed this to happen to him. As a child, he would stay in the shadows of his father, never once daring to step across that line that his father specifically laid down but as he was here now, twenty-nine years old, he was beginning to wonder if he had crossed that line earlier than he thought.

Rain begins to pour, it sound of emotion hitting the roof of the enclosed building, and Flack glances up at the dark ceiling as if he were able to see the pouring rain. But it's no use; it's only purpose to provide a small and steady rhythm of peace.

Flack knows he lost a lot of blood because he can feel it. He can feel his body beginning to weaken, demanding that he immediately close his eyes and drift off into an abyss of his own. But his heart and mind disagree with his body and he refuses to close his lids, why? Because he is a Flack and as his father told him many times before (when he was telling Flack Jr. late at night of bedtime stories of his chases) that a Flack is always a Flack – a damn, good cop and a man at heart.

He absently bits hard on his swollen lower lip, tasting dried blood while doing so. It's an odd mix, tasting his own blood, his own metallic taste and he begins to wonder if he's going somewhere into insanity because who ponders about their own blood and taste? And he wants to answer his own question but as he opens his mouth to reply, a small and pathetic sigh escapes instead.

Xxxx

"It's everywhere, Mac. Just _everywhere_." Stella growls as she pulls off her gloves before throwing them down onto the ground besides the vehicle that Flack had been kidnapped in. She and Mac had been processing the car ever since they were able to get in into their hands and from there, nothing more than what they had already known had been helpful to them.

Mac knows Stella all too well, he has worked with her for what seems like ages, and understands her frustration. Deep green eyes posse fire, her dark brows furrow and he's seen that familiar look too many times before to understand what exactly is going on in her head.

"Maybe we're not looking deep enough." Mac suggests, as Stella's eyes quickly look up to him in a curious response. Mac leans further into the vehicle as he pats around the backseat, gloved hands searching for something. And as he pats again, he can feel Stella moving to step behind him, flashlight pointing downwards so lighting can help in his search.

Then, his fingers run across a small rip and if he were not paying such close attention to things, the small defect would have gone unnoticed. He turns his head to Stella and she immediately hands him a carpet knife, anxious as to what they are about to find.

Mac cuts deep, the sharp blade tearing pieces of the carpet away to revel a small silver handle, worn with age. Mac sets the blade down as he reaches for the ripped carpet with his gloved hands, pulling the rest away to reveal a hidden compartment underneath. He gives Stella a quick look before she's right besides him, camera snapping at their new discovery.

When she finishes, Mac reaches over and pulls open the latch, a small '_creak_' sound emits and it's all exactly what they need to see to know what has been going on. Stella's breath catches in her throat, Mac swallows down the bile that is rising and the silence is so heavy, that nothing could dare to cut it.

There, in the middle of the small opening, rested a small sharp blade, glistening with dried blood.

Xxxxx

"DNA came back on the blood." Danny says as he steps into Mac's office, his mouth in a tight line as he lays the results on Mac's desk. "It's Don's. They've got him. They fuckin' have him."

Mac senses the angry in Danny's voice and so do a couple of lab techs that had stopped at the mention of the missing homicide detective's name. Ever since the kidnapping, everyone had been anxiously waiting for any type of news of Flack's whereabouts.

"And his parents? They're _here_. They want ta talk to ya, Mac. Said they've got a couple of questions that need answers."

"All right." Mac says as Danny gives him a doubtful look. He knows, along with everyone else in the lab, that they've got nothing on Flack's whereabouts except for the blade, videotape and vehicle. They've got one suspect too, Grady Akers, but it isn't until now that they've had good and solid evidence to be able to go knocking on doors.

Danny straightens slightly as his boss moves around his desk, grabbing Flack's case file. And it makes Danny's mouth go dry every time his eyes lay upon the file. They had a case file on Flack. A case file that only victims get, not homicide detectives that do nothing but be an anchor to those that need him. "Mac!" Danny calls out as Mac turns from the door, his brow raised.

"Listen, let me and Stel go talk to this guy." Danny says, referring to Akers. "We can kill two birds with one stone. You go talk to Don's parents and we'll go to Akers' home and get the fuckin' bastard. See if we can get some answers or somethin'."

Mac stays silent for a moment as he thinks about Danny's words. He knows that they need to find Flack but there's always that small sense of pain in his heart that tells him that he too should be joining Stella and Danny. But this wasn't a choice on whether or not he should be there while they grab Akers, no, it should be a choice all on the amount of time they had in rescuing Flack.

Turning towards Danny, Mac nods and the smile on Danny's lips widen. "Yeah, go grab Stella and make sure you catch him, okay? I want answers and I want them now."

Danny's smile reaches his eyes as he nods a little too much before almost skipping out of Mac's lab. "Ya got it, boss. Ya got it."

TBC.


End file.
